Bad Karma
by Dendera
Summary: Set during the episode "Passion." Jenny Calendar spends her final moments questioning her choices in life.


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Title: Bad Karma

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Rating: PG-13 for one swearword and general morbid-ness

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Summary: Jenny Calendar's last thoughts in the episode "_Passion_."

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Author's note: shakes a fist at her muse You're evil for making me write this! _Evil_! Ahem-anyway, back when I was a youngin' and Buffy was in its rockin' second season (the best of the best, in my humble opinion), I was traumatized by the death of Jenny Calendar. It was the first time Joss really horrified me with his morbid imagination. Now, here I am five years later, still needing closure on the subject. Watching the second season again on DVD made me aware of this sad fact. 

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Dedication: To Carol and Jesse Schosek-- you are both sorely missed.

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"I didn't know I was gonna fall in love with you…. Oh God, is it too late to take that back?"

"Do you want to?"

-- Jenny and Giles, "_Passion_"

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_I've always believed in Karma. I understood it to be a governing power that guided us through multiple lifetimes, rewarding those who would do good and punishing the wicked. Somehow, it was always a comfort to me. Some creep might hit my car in a parking lot and then take off without leaving a note. Well, no problem, karma you know? We're all streaking towards our own destinies, our respective Nirvanas. Sure, you may have it bad in this life, but eventually everyone gets what's coming to them. What they deserve. Poetic justice, pure and simple._

He moves to warm his hands by the small blazing flame, a useless and ultimately, ironic gesture. Nothing in creation would ever warm that cold flesh again. "Looks like I get to kill two birds with one stone." He pauses to glance over at me, as if deeply, soulfully touched by his own resilient evil. But he doesn't have a soul; my people cursed it away.

The expressive face and handsome frame that once housed our friend Angel scrutinizes me wolfishly. "And the teacher makes three."

I hear my uncle's voice sounding in my ears, commanding my limbs to obey. _Run, Janna! _

He throws me headfirst into the door. The impact stuns me momentarily, the pain howling away in my head, blood oozing at my temple. But fear propels me to my feet and I manage to stumble out of the room. 

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Run from what, uncle? From my fate, my duty? Isn't that what you told me it was? Hell is at my heels tonight, but it's a hell of our own making. Our vengeance, our sacred obligation rooted from a century of hatred and fuelled by an ancient grudge. Are you proud of your Janna now? Are you pleased with the evil our clan has unleashed? Isn't this what you wanted?

I plunge breathlessly down the hallway. A place once so familiar stares back at me with blank, ominous walls. Like silent spectators to the chase. Not long ago, Rupert and I stood near that doorway; he politely offering pleasantries while I did my best to make him blush. Memories of words, looks, and lips ignite my mind and overload my senses. I can scarcely make out what direction I'm going. I can't stop to think about it. I just run.

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"Wrong and wrong, snobby." He was so pompous, so antiquated. We were like water and oil, and still…I sensed the fire, and embraced the chemistry. I reveled in the flirting and willingly dove headlong into the mysteries of dating, understanding full well that I was crossing my boundaries. But even I couldn't have foreseen what would have happened. I never meant to fall in love.

I can hear Angelus behind me, striding at a leisurely pace. This isn't a chore for him; he's enjoying every moment. The panic buzzes in my ears and my own ragged panting burns my throat. I try wrestling with the exit doors. As one of them gives, I find myself greeted by a cool blast of night air. The courtyard is bathed in eerie layers of shadow, the faint moonlight doing little to illuminate my path. My heart leaps at each night sound, pulsing erratically as I cling to the desperate hope that, as I round the next corner, I'll find that he hasn't left for home yet. That I'll feel the steady, reassuring warmth of his gentle hands on my shoulders once more…

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"I'm lying, Rupert. The book's fine. I just love to see you squirm." It had been a book of his Father's. A first edition he had graciously loaned me; it must have killed him to entrust such a precious text to a technopagan and her 'idiot box.' Yet, he had. He always been one to trust.

"Well, I trust I gave good…squirm." 

The look on his face had been priceless, such a painful contrast from the shock and disappointment he wore when he learned the truth behind my presence at Sunnydale High. My real interest in Angel. It'd be arrogance to assume I know all there is to know about Rupert Giles; my brush with his past as "Ripper" is proof enough of that. But I understand his mind, his soul, and I'd like to think his heart. I had betrayed him in the worst possible way, and through deception, put the lives of his slayer and her friends at risk. Did he doubt the sincerity of my affections after that? I'm sure of it. Would I ever be able to redeem myself to him? I didn't know. I still don't.

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I'm lying, Rupert. 

Why hadn't I said it earlier? Just three silly words, that might have made all the difference in the world. Three words that would have changed lives. If he had only known, if only I had told him, Angel might still have his soul. And his cure, now lost in the smoldering pile on my classroom floor, wouldn't have been necessary. I might have spent tonight resting in Rupert's protective embrace, inhaling that decidedly British scent of his as we rediscovered each other. Will I ever breathe that again, that unique medley of bygone after-shave and crisp peppermint?

Don't look back, Jenny! Don't look back! 

I can't help but disobey my own frantic mantra. Angelus sprints contentedly after me like a predator on the hunt. I hurl myself against the doors leading back inside. They won't budge. I try again, desperation and adrenaline lending me strength, and this time I break through. For a brief moment I entertain the idea that I may have lost him, but he appears gleefully behind me, ready to tear the door off its hinges. I push it with all my might, smashing the glass pane against his in his grinning face. It buys me a few seconds at most.

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I'm not going to survive this. 

The realization pierces through my fight-or-flight state, the shock of it numbing me from the inside out. It's the fear that makes me reckless. I skid to a halt and shove a janitor's cart at the furious vampire, knocking him to his feet. In front of me, a flight of stairs to the second floor-if I can just make it to the library, to the weapons cabinet… I scramble up the stairs, his feral snarl ringing in my ears.

A rush of wind, the ripple of clothing…and suddenly he's towering over me. Angelus pulls me roughly to him with a low chuckle. Defeat stings at my eyes, but the tears never come. I won't let them. Angelus may be the source of another gypsy's agony, but it won't begin with me. He won't have the pleasure of watching Janna cry. No, not Janna._ Jenny. _

That's right Rupert, you knew the real me. Jenny, with her computers, cyberspace incantations, and pagan festivals. The girl who fell for the stuffy librarian harder than she ever would have imagined.

He seems to drink in my terror, intoxicated by the thrill of knowing he caused it. I realize now that I'm going to die.

_But_ _I **love** him. How can it be meant to end this way? _

Angelus holds me close, cradling the back of my neck with one hand, and brushing fingers over my lips as a lover would. _Oh God,_ _Rupert, I'll never have the chance to make it up to you…_I try to brace myself, but the anxiety shreds through any remaining scrap of bravery. I can only watch my own horror-stricken expression, mirrored back through his narrowed amber orbs.

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I used to believe in karma. I used to believe in a lot of things. That the paths we took, the harvests we reaped were all induced by choices we made in past lives. Each destiny having been predetermined by the last. What a load of shit. What kind of cosmic force would sentence you to relive a life of suffering over and over again because of a few mistakes? Buffy, a teenage girl, who should have had the chance at a normal adolescence without the imminent threat of an apocalypse looming each day. What could she have done to earn such a fate? Angel, who had his soul stolen, restored, and then taken away again-all because of one moment of happiness. Rupert who always insists on going at it alone, because his calling demands such loneliness of him-how is his torture justified?

And all of those people punished indirectly for someone else's wayward deeds, what crimes must they pay for that they deserve this? Angelus will kill me and the downward spiral will begin from there. Rupert will suffer, Buffy, Willow, and Xander, my people… The perpetual cycle of grief, guilt, anger, and revenge, infinitely over and over again. It's all too much to chalk up as bad karma. There's no justice in such contagious misery.

The demon wearing Angel's face grins indulgently down at me. "Sorry, Jenny."

Forgive me Rupert, for the pain I've caused you…

"This is where you get off."

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Forgive m-

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Fin


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